


Pause to Breathe

by misura



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: M/M, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 18:51:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of these days, Slade is going to say something nice and Oliver will die of shock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pause to Breathe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ashcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashcat/gifts).



> it seems today is not the day I'll be writing you Shado/Slade/Oliver threesome fic.
> 
> have a Slade/Ollie treat with implied Slade/Shado and Oliver/Shado instead?

Oliver's messed around with guys before, sure - it happens, when you've got a few drinks in you (or a few dozen). He might even have woken up with one, on occasion, and the pounding headache that maybe ought to have taught him better - but then, as Slade keeps pointing out, Oliver's a slow learner.

"God, you're an amateur."

One of these days, Slade is going to say something nice and Oliver will die of shock. There's worse ways to go, he supposes. He's survived several of them already.

"What would being a professional make me?" he asks. He's pretty sure nobody's ever messed around with had a body like Slade's - or Shado's, for that matter. All coiled strength and muscle and scars.

Slade grins a dirty grin. "Well, either a whore or a member of the special forces."

Oliver considers asking _which one are you, again?_ , except that shitty circumstances aside, he really does enjoy living. "Was that a test?"

Slade and Shado get along like a house on fire. Kindred souls, practically.

"Language," Slade says. "Someone plays games when you get naked with them, you use some strong terms to let them know you mean business."

 _Was that a God-damn test?_ Oliver thinks, but the question seems rather moot by now.

"I'd have thought you were the type who _liked_ playing games."

"Only if there's actually any doubt as to who'd win," Slade says.

Oliver's seen him and Shado, going from fighting to fucking and back again. He can't imagine knowing anyone that well - or having that kind of stamina.

It hasn't really prepared him for _this_ , for Slade just walking up to him and asking him _'care for a quick fuck?'_ as if he's asking about the weather, or requesting Oliver to pass the salt. (Well, the whetting stone.)

_'What about Shado?'_

_'Guess she can have you once I'm done,'_ Slade said. _'Or you, her, if that's what the two of you settle on. I don't judge.'_

"Bet I can hit water better than you can," Oliver says.

"Lot of good _that_ 's going to do you against Fyers. But hey, you want me to get up and find you a bowl, be happy to oblige."

Of course, Slade chooses this particular moment to finally put his hands where Oliver wants them. (They're rough, calloused hands. They feel wonderful on him.)

"You don't just play games, you play _dirty_."

"That'd be 'God-damn dirty' to you," Slade says.

"Anything you need to win." Not that Oliver feels he's losing anything right now - except possibly his patience. His mind. Nothing he places any particular value on.

"Now you're getting it."

"Well, finally."


End file.
